Wardrobe Malfunction
by inertbiscuit
Summary: One of Black Ghost's top designers defects to help the cyborgs. Their fashion designer.


**Wardrobe Malfunction**

_Disclaimer: Cyborg 009 belongs to Shotaro Ishinomori_

_A/N: One day I was thinking about the design of the iconic cyborg uniform and wondering who in that universe created it. The idea spiraled downward from there. This piece occurs after the episode 'London Fogs' for anybody thinking about continuity. There is some tinges of shonen-ai, but progresses no further._

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The afternoon wind off the river Tiber gave Albert a chill. It added to the uneasy knowledge that he was being followed. This was not a surprise, with their stops in Paris and London, it was obvious Black Ghost could track their progress. It was just part of the game of cat and mouse the two groups played, one never held the advantage for long, the other group with a countermeasure. They were in the Italian capital investigating the latest Black Ghost plot they've caught wind of. 009, 003, and 001 were wandering through some off limit ruins on the outskirts of the city. 008 and 005 were prowling through the catacombs, searching for the location of intercepted communications. Himself and 006 separately were on general reconnaissance in the streets.

004 turned a corner into a busy tourist area, with shops and food tailored for American sales. Albert wondered how Black Ghost's training had gone downhill, this guy was terrible on proper stalking. He was too close, and was acting a little too flamboyant, almost like he wanted attention. Albert wanted him to tail him a little longer before he made a move, to see how truly clueless this guy was. He casually entered the nearest shop, a treasure-trove of cheap souvenirs and lame t-shirts. He started flipping through a rack of shirts near the back of the establishment, waiting to see the operative's next move.

He stopped in front of the door, his legs shaking. He couldn't see his face, but the tension was obvious in the rest of his body. He swore loud enough for people nearby to hear. The tacky ascot and vest he wore made him stand out even more. Who was this guy?! He carefully opened the door, his entire form shaking, it was like he was allergic to the stores' contents. He stayed near the front of the store, acting very interested in some snow globes.

Albert laughed to himself. He was a little put off Joe didn't want him on the more dangerous scouting missions, he'd been itching for some action. This excursion was proving to be even more entertaining. He couldn't read the snoop's eyes, they sat behind his beatnik shades, large nose, and even larger chin. His hair was definitely not Black Ghost standard, slicked back in front, extending into a giant duck tail design in back. Albert went back to his innocent role, holding up a shirt with an illustration of some Roman relics that said, 'I Rome'd Around the Ruins!'

He saw the man visibly flinch when he held up the shirt. His reactions were just as funny as the lameness of the garments. He flipped through the rack, holding up a fluorescent orange piece with the classic text, 'I've been to the Colosseum, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.'

"NOOOO!" The man jumped at Albert, gripping the offending fabrics. 004 hung onto the shirts, deftly removing his right flesh-colored glove. He pressed his machine-gun hand to the man's chest, the shirts covering the gesture. The stalker froze, the store now focused on the pair.

"Now, now, let's not cause a scene," Albert smoothly said. The man bristled.

"But there will be a scene if you consider wearing EITHER of those in public! For the love of God, if you must wear tourist trash, get something with some semblance of classic styling and versatility." He groped to the rack on his right. "This button down number has some light tailoring to flatter your classic form. The uninspired print of Roman architecture is not to large or gaudy to overwhelm your steely eyes."

Albert's expression changed to a more questioning look. "You don't have much room to talk when it comes to gaudy my friend."

"W-what you'd say?!" yelled the man, his rage pushed his massive nose and chin into Albert's face. "Do you dare insinuate that the great, Totto Tizzoni, has a block in fashion aesthetics?!" His fists shook, the jeweled rings sparkling in the light.

Albert slightly lowered his hand, who was this lunatic? The man's attention darted to the outside, his expression relaxed.

"No, I must remain focused, we don't have time to discuss this. We'll have to come back tomorrow if you want a proper outfit from here. We have more pressing things to discuss 004." That snapped Albert back to the original situation. He kept the fluorescent shirt on his gun hand, tossing some lire at the clerk.

"I'll take this one."

"You can't wear that hideous thing, it clashes with your face shape, I won't allow it!"

"Don't worry, it's a gift for a friend."

* * *

"This is totally inappropriate, if I knew you were going to blindfold and bind me, I would have brought more flattering and refined samples. Good lord, that abomination called a t-shirt must make my butt look huge."

Albert's patience was wearing thin. How long could this guy go on about fabric dyes and shirt cuts for body types? "That's strange, I thought it would make the perfect bangles for you."

"My word, for all the advantages you have with your body type, you have no sense of accessories. Take your ascot for example, it is sensible for the open collared shirt you wear. But the yellow is a totally inappropriate color for you, a chartreuse would really bring a respectful shine to your face."

"Listen Gucci--"

"Don't use that name at me! I'm better than those hacks!"

Albert was done talking. He'd winded through the wharf enough that he didn't think Tizzoni could recall the path. He pushed him by the next row of crates, the Dolphin hiding in the forgotten port. The fashion expert was tossed onto the cyborg's shoulder and Albert leapt onto the deck. He opened the hatch, 002, 007 and Dr. Gilmore waiting below.

002 smiled impishly, being on Dolphin guard duty was incredibly boring. Finally he could have some fun. "Wow 004, you shouldn't have. You always get the best souvenirs."

He sat the designer on the floor. "Gentlemen allow me to introduce Totto Tizzoni, fashion designer, expert, and historian. His hobbies include deconstructing pop fashion trends and practice espionage poorly."

007 got excited. "Tizzoni?! You mean THE Totto Tizzoni, Italy's top designer at the end of the century?!"

"And still the best in the new millennium!" he boasted.

"You know this guy?"

"Of course! I've been a fan of his since his debut in Florence in '93! Though my favorite collection was your fall '97 in Paris."

"Oh!" Tizzoni quipped with glee, forgetting he was a prisoner. "I am so pleased you could see the sublime touches I put into that line, other's brutish eyes could not find that, but it was a new plateau for me. I always measure the success of a dress to compare it to my 'Midnight Forest' piece." 007 swooned.

"A wonderful choice! It truly made the Tizzoni label a worldwide name!"

"Totto Tizzoni, that name is familar to me." spoke Dr. Gilmore.

"It should be Doctor, I worked in the corporate wing of Black Ghost for over 4 years, giving my services to all special projects, including the 00 cyborgs."

The cyborg's attention immediately went to the bound man.

"What did you--"

"I made your uniforms Einstein. Who do you think made them, Dr. Gilmore? He knows his way around the body but wouldn't know the difference between a bobbin and a boustia."

"Y-y-you mean, I'm wearing a Tizzoni original?" mumbled 007.

The designer gleamed. "Of course! I produced only the best uniforms throughout the organization. The 00 uniforms I was heavily inspired by the original designer Roberto Capucci. He did a wonderful job with the first edition of your uniform back in the early '60's. I merely refined the cuts and seams for a more updated look. I also updated with the latest fabric technology like impact absorption and bio-fabric prototypes. His biggest error was color. Olive green? Red scarf? Really, he let the military influence get to him. The updated colors give a better sense of your regal position and--"

"Alright Todo, we're through with the design lesson," harped 004.

"It's Totto."

"Whatever." 004 removed his ascot from Tizzoni's eyes and tied it around his neck again. "I want some answers, why were you tailing me around the city?"

Totto blinked, adjusting to the sub's artificial light. He looked to his right, 004 glaring at him, and 002 and 007 looking at him curiously, both sporting their red and gold uniforms.

"Take off those uniforms now!"

"Now what are you yammering about?" barked 002.

Totto jumped to his feet, he twisted out of his t-shirt bond. He grabbed 007's tunic, pulling it over his head. "They can activate it anytime! Otherwise you'll be captured!" 002 pulled him away from the Englishman.

"Stop clawing and start explaining pal!"

"The uniforms! They are part of Black Ghost's latest plot to capture you. The bio-infused fabric offers you many advantages, but the technical team just developed a pulse that manipulates and controls your cybernetic rythyms through that bio-fiber. They can take control of your bodies through the uniforms! I learned of the plot a few days ago. I defected to warn you! Get those off now or you'll be in their control!"

"No wonder they're dry-clean only," mumbled 007.

"Remove your uniforms 002 and 007. We can't take that risk!" shouted Dr. Gilmore.

"What? I can't just strip 'cause of some quack's ranting. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of!"

"Just do it 002."

The pair shed their clothing. Once done, 007 slipped on the souvenir shirt. 002 was about to unbutton his trousers when he stopped. "I"m not doing this, it's ridiculous!"

"002, don't be a baby, it's not like 003 is around," spoke Albert, slightly annoyed 002 couldn't just follow simple orders.

007 clapped his hands together. "C'mon 002, we won't look if you're shy!"

Jet folded his arms across his bare chest and leaned against the wall. "Listen, we have no idea if this goofball is, or even he is who he says he is. Who knows what the truth or is motives are. I think--" Jet stopped as his hips jerked off the wall. His stiff, shocked upper body seemed to not be in control of the quickly walking legs below. "What the hell?!"

"The system's engaged! Get those pants off of him!"

Jet was dense, but not stupid. He unfastened the bio-fiber bottoms, but his legs stretched and kicked to not allow removal. 007 tried to tackle him, but got kicked by Jet's bare foot. "Ow!"

"Ah! Help!" Jet cried, he could feel everything, just not control his lower limbs. He couldn't stop them with his arms, nor could he fire his jets, as the legs controlled that impulse. 004 avoided Jet's kicks and threw him to the floor. 007 jumped up and grabbed a pant leg, pulling the article away.

Jet stared at the uniform wide-eyed, his panic still high. "I couldn't-- couldn't control my legs."

"Your powers of observation are amazing!" mocked Tizzoni. "You should now realize my honesty is only matched by my design prowess."

"Shut up Todo."

"It's Totto!"

"Whatever." 004 turned to his comrade on the floor. "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah, except I'm... a little exposed." Albert untied his yellow scarf and dropped it over the flyer's midsection. Jet blushed turning away, his hands holding the fabric in place. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about returning it, I need a chartreuse one anyway."

Jet got up and slinked back into the bowels of the Dolphin. Dr. Gilmore tried again to raise 009, 008, and 006 on the communicators, but to no avail. He sighed heavily. "Considering what we've seen and heard, we must assume the teams are under Black Ghost's control."

"Dammit, I didn't find you in time." Albert saw the first expression on the designer's face that wasn't self-serving. It must've been hard for the designer to leave Black Ghost alone, thought Albert, the fear for your life looming every second. "My tracking skills are on par with my design knowledge, you cyborgs are really good at hiding yourselves."

Albert's face faltered. Was this guy truly capable of this much narcissism?

Dr. Gilmore offered a chair to their former prisoner, he sat and crossed his legs, his nose slightly tilted into the air. "Mr. Tizzoni, do you know what Black Ghost planned to do with the team under their control?"

"They want to regain control of their prototypes. Leadership has not given up on the idea of selling their services to governments across the globe and further experimentation. They will bring them to their bio-fiber transmitter based in Villa Borghese. Then airlift them to the Mediterranean for transport to a cyborg facility. To which one I'm not sure."

"I see, it'll be easiest to find them before they get transported off the peninsula." 004 nodded at the professor.

007 grabbed a detailed map of the Tiber basin and laid it in front of the planners. They located the proper villa. "Can you give us an idea of the force strength and location?"

Tizzoni started drawing uniform types on the map. "Fourteen snipers reside in nests along the tops of ruins. I designed their hats for a dominating appearance in profile from a distance. There are 54 general soldiers on foot patrol It took me 47 samples from 12 different studios before I found the perfect fabric for those uniforms. Finally, there are 22 machine gun and missile equipped robots hidden among the bush. Those were most exciting because the scientists allowed me to design the upper body profile to make a more threatening silhouette."

004 frowned. That was a pretty high force number for just the three of them to handle. "What are the numbers inside the base?"

"Much smaller, it's not a big space, maybe a couple dozen soldiers and a few equipped robots."

"I think we'll be better off sneaking in there, the question is how? Any ideas 007?"

"Oh I can get us in there no problem," cheerily offered Tizzoni. "I visit the general there a couple times a week."

"Wait a second, how to you suppose to just waltz in Black Ghost's base? You defected remember?"

"Oh I did defect, I just didn't tell anyone, it didn't seem worth my time. Besides, there is one more proposal I have for summer uniforms of commanders in the Pacific Basin. I am really excited about that project and don't want to waste the effort I've put into it so far."

004 was beside himself. "Do you even know what defect means?!" Tizzoni made an annoyed noise.

"Of COURSE I do! Seriously, you cyborg's lack of respect is astounding! Is it that hard to understand I would want to defect once I learned what Black Ghost was truly about?!"

GB placed a reassuring hand on the Italian's shoulder. "We're sorry Mr. Tizzoni, of course we understand. More than most I'd gather."

The fashion aficionado's body tremored in anger. "It's-it's just horrible," he swallowed hard, searching for the strength to speak those bitter thoughts. "Black Ghost doesn't give a damn about the aesthetics or principals of fashion! They only use it as a tool for their petty ambitions! I will not be their style slave!"

The trio's eyes were wide and mouths agape. 002 reentered the bridge, now clothed in a pair of jeans and black tank top. He tossed a pair of slacks at 007 who put them on. "Does this guy even live in our reality?" Everyone shook their heads no.

Tizzoni scoffed. "I could ask the same of you 002!" He stood next to Jet. "That tank top's neck cut does not show off your strong collarbone and pectorals. You need a wider cut and a plunging neckline." He grabbed and stretched the neck to illustrate his point. Jet grunted and pulled away. The man was fast and darted behind him. "And these jeans are not showing off the the sculpt of your cheeks, a travesty." He grabbed the American's hind quarters to emphasize his point. "They should look more like this."

Jet whirled around so fast, Albert thought he used his accelerator. His fist collapsed Tizzoni into a heap. "Don't touch me you sicko!" 004 and 007 grabbed his arms, preventing further cyborg on stylist violence.

"Stay cool 002!" pleaded GB. "We need him to rescue 009 and the others!"

He jerked the pair off his arms, his eyes wide and twitching. With a growl, he turned and sat at a console muttering, trying to watch over some scans. Dr. Gilmore helped Tizzoni up, trying to smooth over the incident. "I'm so sorry Mr. Tizzoni! Being on the run has us all a bit on edge." They heard Jet mutter something a bit louder. 004 shot him a glare. He relented.

"Dr. Gilmore, you should've programmed your creations with more respect routines, this is ridiculous! Nevertheless, I must get to that facility, I do not want a masterpiece of mine used in that cruel fashion!"

Dr. Gilmore blew a sigh of relief, he was still going to help them. "Thank you Mr. Tizzoni. What's our next move?"

His eyes glinted behind the round shades, he reached into his vest pocket and removed a credit card. "We're going shopping."

* * *

GB was well aware this giant in the fashion world was missing several of his marbles. Such is the curse of an artist, a necessity to tap that enlightened creativity. They tweak and manipulate and tweak to get the perfect result. Though there are times the artist should realize they have done all they can, perfection an impossible result, and just 'let it go.' GB thought being within a sniper's crosshairs would be a good place to just, let it go. Tizzoni had other thoughts.

"This just won't do, the fabric is not moving freely as it should when you walk. 007, can you make your hips a little narrower, like 004's hips?" GB sighed. He'd already back at the store grew four inches, added hair, made his eyes smaller and his shoulders larger. Except for the eye color and nose, he looked like a copy of Albert.

"Perfect! This is how the capris should look!" 007 stood with a forlorn expression on his face, belying the happy nature of his Hawaiian-print trench coat and bright fishnet shirt. "You just need to work on your walk, 004's natural and steady flow would be a wonderful model to follow."

Albert groaned loudly. His expression was unreadable, as it was obscured under his wide brimmed Panama hat. He threw his fists on the fuchsia pants. "Would you please stop talking about me like I'm not here?!"

"004 please don't get flustered, it makes your cheeks rosy and conflict with your indigo ascot." said Tizzoni as he stood next to Albert. He billowed the cropped tan jacket, giving his prized model cyborg more air, making his paisley-patterned shirt flutter. 004 tried to glare at him, but the oval violet shades softened his look too much. "Here, you also need to pull in your belt another notch to highlight your behind." Albert's face twitched above him, desperately wanting to do what Jet did to him earlier, but concern for his captured comrades stopped him.

Jet watched him adjust Albert's pants. Totto was right, that style did make Albert's butt look amazing, better than those untailored work pants he favored. He turned away as he felt the blush of his cheeks rise.

"Dammit!" 002 almost tripped on his bellbottoms again. "I slept through the 70's, I think that excuses me from wearing them."

"If you wanted to wear your hideous modified shoes, we needed to cover them up someway. Besides, the bold stripe and shape of the pants takes attention away from your face."

"WHAT?!" GB and Albert almost didn't grab Jet in time, his nose millimeters from the diva's hairstyle.

"Yes," he replied nonchalantly. "Your frame is the envy of any Italian descendant, but your bold facial and hair features lack the distinguished elegance, like I possess, to pull it off." He glanced back at the raging cyborg. "Oh! Actually," he pulled off his perfect circle black glasses and placed them on Jet's nose. "There! I thought it was missing something, it frames your face perfectly." He readjusted Jet's gold medallions and white feather boa. "You all need to stop fidgeting around, they will notice if my models have elements out of place. We're almost at the door." Once Tizzoni got far enough ahead, the pair released Jet, GB thought he saw steam coming off the top of his head.

Albert noticed a couple combat robots on the path now. It was back far enough into a wooded area an average person shouldn't be around. They came up to a small clearing. Tizzoni kneeled and dusted a part of the ground, revealing a numeric pad. He typed in a series of numbers and a piece of the foliage in the clearing moved, opening a large metal tunnel with two standard soldiers.

"Tizzoni, why do you have unauthorized personnel with you? The general is not pleased with this."

Tizzoni made a disapproving noise. "There are some things in fashion that can only be taken in by direct observation, General Farbo is well aware of that! The spirited discussion we had last week on mass media portrayal on revival and vintage trends inspired me for some hard visuals and thoughts on 21st century authoritative and military figures." He patted two thick sample binders under his left arm.

The two soldiers really didn't know what he just said, and unsurprisingly, the three models didn't know either. They looked at each other with confused expressions. Totto saw his chance.

"I don't have time for this, and I'm sure the general doesn't either!" He just pushed in-between the guards. "Frankie, Deter, Charles! Hurry up!"

004's eye twitched. "Deter?" 007 poked him in the back.

"Shh! Keep moving, it's our only chance," he whispered. They walked past the guards. Their faces made GB believe this is the designer's typical behavior. The hallway descended downward into the Italian hillside. The halls were pretty narrow, you could only line four men shoulder to shoulder before you scrape the edges. About every 20 feet a bulkhead stuck out from the wall about 8 inches, it'll be their only cover if they get into a fire-fight. That thought was even less appealing without their familiar uniforms, getting hit with machine gun fire wasn't exactly pleasant, but GB bet the special red fabric absorbed more than he realized.

Tizzino turned the group down a hallway, GB turned the other way. The hallway widened, hopefully a sign he was approaching a more important room, like one you keep prisoners or new evil computer control systems in.

He ducked and weaved through the halls, trying not to be noticed. It was harder without his cyborg uniform. It always melded with his transformation, making costume changes a breeze. Now it would be hard to become part of the wall while wearing a Hawaiian print jacket and white penny loafers. He ducked behind a bulkhead, the guard not noticing him from the adjoining hallway. He crept to the other side of the hall and opened the doors that weren't locked, trying to find some kind of clue where he was.

His head was obscured by the dark room when the barrel of a gun pressed into his back. "Turn around!" ordered the soldier. GB resisted the urge to freeze up. He pressed his belly button, his only chance of escape. GB turned to face the man, the new extended nose and even bigger chin almost hit the soldier's face.

"What is the meaning of this indignity?!" boomed the false Tizzoni. "This place is organized worse than a boy band's wardrobe! You would THINK if Black Ghost asks me to be here, your staff would have the decency to show me to my task! The issue with the 00 uniforms is top priority and must be dealt with immediately!"

"Hey, uh-- wait a sec--" GB silenced him by stomping on his foot.

"Do not waste my time! I am invaluable in day-to-day top secret operations, so every second of mine you waste, you are wasting Black Ghost's time. And we all know we do not want Black Ghost to wait! Show me to the 00 cyborgs, NOW!"

"Y-Y-Y-YES SIR!!!" cried the soldier, any semblance of authority drained from his body. 007 smiled inwardly, the unyielding, self-absorbed power trip came off believeable. He kept his head tlited high, trailing the scurrying man.

They went briskly through the alcoves and ramps. They approached a large door, that either kept big things in, or big things out. His heartbeat quickened. About 50 yards from the door, it screeched open, a figure revealed.

The soldier gave a frantic whimper, knees wavering violently, his head darting between the two figures. He screamed again and ran past GB, leaving no trace of his involvement. 007 looked more closely down the hall, ready to draw his gun. His expressive face grew a wide smile. At the end of the hall, stood their leader, Joe Shimamura. GB hopped from his cover elated, "009!" He popped back to his familiar form.

He then noticed Joe's eyes, it was not what he would expect. They were taut, distressed. GB shook off the relaxed feeling, 009 was not in control, the uniform was.

He drew his gun. "009, is that you?" He didn't speak, his face still pained. Tizzoni said the effect of control spreads a few inches from the end of the hem lines. Meaning hands and most of the head were under Black Ghost's control. More long seconds past. 009 leaned forward and disappeared.

"Oh-" was all GB could say before something smashed his chin. Several brutal hits met his torso and the shapeshifter flew backwards, his head slammed into the floor. He blinked and clumsily pulled himself up, his vision hazed. Joe stood stiffly before him, that same expression of dread.

GB slowly raised his blaster. "I'm sorry I have to do this." 009 jumped at him and smacked the gun away. His right fist connected with 007's jaw, the cyborg smashed into the passage wall. The gun clattered 20 feet away. "Blimey!" That was still not as hard as 009 could hit. Perhaps the controller was inexperienced with Joe's strengths? Even if Joe wasn't at full strength, GB would still fall to that attack sooner rather than later. Strength and speed were 009's assets, deception and mimicking were not as useful in a one-on-one brawl.

GB was in trouble, and he had no idea how to get out of it.

* * *

"Where did 007 go?" whispered Albert. The light hum in Albert's ear told him Black Ghost had transmitter interference running, to prevent internal cyborg communication. Jet shrugged.

"Quiet Deter!" yelled the designer. 004's arm tensed, but Jet grabbed it before contact was made.

Their brisk stroll through the underground ended at a grand door with a weaponized robot in front. He nodded at Tizzoni and opened the panel, revealing the large, rich, jewel-toned decorated office. A posh upholstered chair turned, a wiry man with a pot belly speaking into a phone. "Thank you," the man ended the call and placed the phone on the large walnut desk, ornate inlays making its appearance even more gaudy. He rose from the chair, opening his arms wide.

"Ah! Totto! Good to see you as usual," They warmly greeted one another, touching their lips to the other's cheek. "I was a little sad you missed our lunch this afternoon."

"So sorry Farbo, I thought my message reached you in time. I was trying to prepare a little presentation for what we talked about the other day. It was truly an exhilarating and stimulating conversation. I have so few of those these days, I was inspired!" he gestured towards the ceiling, as if receiving enlightenment.

"For instance, popular culture will elevate anything for fresh new controls on society. But yet, the population craves the familiar. Steps into neo-fashion create a plethora of results, but they are tweaking the formula further, to garner support for their ideas, a mascot, a leader." He grabbed 002 by the elbow, for a close sample, "For instance, the soft feathers recall luxury of the famous, and also the regal collars of the past. The soft diamond pattern and light purple tones makes this ensemble softly say 'I am royalty.' Demanding the respect of his media subjects." His hand glided up and down Jet's body, he closed his eyes and whimpered slightly. He tried to summon 001's teleportation ability, but to no avail.

General Farbo nodded, touching the fabric on Jet's arm. "Of course! So you are extrapolating upon your paper published last summer? Is this preparation for another book?"

Tizzoni tossed his hair. "My book deal is for four books, I have to keep up, those royalty checks don't write themselves." They both broke into hearty, maniacal laughter, 002 thankful it distracted him from his outfit.

Farbo drew his arm around his friend. He opened the sample books. "My goodness, you have been busy with your papers. Could you leave some of your notes with me, I'd love to give you my thoughts." they walked back to his desk and placed the binders on its hard surface.

"Of course! I'll need them back this weekend, I have some plans to show the Artist's Guild for their upcoming spring festival."

He kept his arm on the designer, "Keeping busy with all facets of interests I see. Though you should probably stay away from some, they could damage your career." Farbo pulled the blaster from his uniform, shoving it into Tizzoni's temple. "And damage other things as well." He grabbed Tizzoni's elbows, holding them painfully against his back.

The soldiers and robots put their machine guns at the ready, the cyborgs slowly raised their hands.

"Men, relieve the models of their firearms." Hands darted into their vest and jacket, removing the offending articles.

Tizzoni's eyes burned, enraged. "Farbo..."

"Really my friend, it is a shame you had this stroke of conscious. Even worse that you tried to use basic Black Ghost spy techniques we tried to teach you. You are way too easy to track, I thought you knew better."

Gun hilts to the head crumpled 002 and 004 to the floor. Special restraints bound their wrists, thick chains bolted to the floor. Farbo raised a remote control and activated the restraints, surrounding their fists.

"Totto, you really should have learned to stick with your strengths, designing clothes for powerful people, who use them as vehicles for power and domination over others!"

The Italian growled. "I do not design that way." Farbo hit him with the gun, he slid to the floor.

"Before we go any further here, let's watch the demise of another traitor." Farbo hit another button, a giant screen flickering on. The grainy surveillance image became clear. Jet and Albert both drew pained breaths at the sight.

007's body was pinned by something against the wall, then slumped to the floor. 009 appeared, standing silently next to him.

* * *

007 collapsed in a heap. He didn't have the strength to lift his head just yet. He saw a pattern. 009 paused and stood motionless for about 15 seconds, before an accelerated assult. If GB made a move before that time, 009 reacted about 1/2 second later at normal speed. Whoever controlled him, couldn't move Joe at that insane speed, so the attack needed to be programmed. GB still had no idea how to use this to his advantage. He was nearing his limit.

"Remind me," he panted, "not to cheat you in cards." How did this person even know what was happening? The security cameras didn't seem to be it, considering how GB made some moves hiding his intentions with his back. They must be taking Joe's optical data and making moves from that. He spit some pink fluid from his mouth. An idea sparked, he went for it.

GB threw his stylish threads to the side. He depressed the belly button and heard the familiar pop. Joe's manipulator backed him up a step from the large two-humped camel. GB faked some weaves back and forth, 009 still steady. He reared on his back legs, the front lashing threateningly. 009 leaned forward right when GB unleashed an attack.

The giant ball of spit hit Joe right between the eyes. He faltered. GB kept his momentum forward, transforming back to human. He removed the bandana from his neck and knotted it around 009's eyes. He grabbed the bottom of the tunic, with 009's arms raised to his head, the top slid off with a mighty tug.

Joe gasped and fell to the floor. GB was relived to hear normal breathing from his friend. "007!" Joe rasped, his legs sprung to life, he grabbed the nearby bulkhead, keeping his body in check. GB forced himself to his feet.

"Hang on 009!" He pulled the boots and pants from the bucking form. He fumbled for the discarded blaster, and blew out the cameras. GB finally fell to his knees, panting next to his freed comrade.

Joe tried to force himself up, his body tingling and stiff. "007, the others... are in that room." He nodded.

"Okay, let's get goin'." GB pulled his capris back on and tossed the short trench coat to his friend. Joe still trying to wipe the spit from his eyes.

"Couldn't you have thrown something a little less messy at me?"

"Better than what a monkey would've flung at ya."

"True."

They ran through the door 009 emerged from. Machines and computers feverishly working and computing. The scientists screamed and whimpered, finding other escapes from the cruel room. 007 looked through a viewing window, into a sealed room. 001, 003, 005, and 008 shackled to the wall, only able to express their feelings through their eyes.

A burst of fire came from a darkened hall, they ducked for cover, a hail of bullets hit where they were. The hallway filled with battle robots coming towards them.

009 cracked his knuckles. "Time to clean up."

* * *

"Wah! How? How is that possible?! That inferior model beat 009?!" The general shook with anger. He grabbed the phone, a loudspeaker screaming through the facility. "All personal! Report to the cyborg containment room! If you encounter an independent cyborg, shoot to kill!" He slammed the phone down, making the soldiers in the room jump. "That means all of you too!" They didn't need prompted again, scurrying through the door. The two massive robots remained, looming over the prisoners.

Jet couldn't hide his snide grin. "Not going how you planned?" Farbo kicked 002 hard in the stomach. He curled on his side, grimacing in pain. But this was fun, and might provide an opening. "Oh, don't be upset, I'm sure you can intimidate your way out of it with your designer cufflinks."

He shoved the blaster's barrel onto 002's forehead, Farbo's finger twitched on the trigger. "This is not a game boy!" A black-haired streak smothered Farbo, falling to the floor.

Tizzoni jumped him from behind, his face tense with rage and determination. "I will not let Black Ghost's shallow games abuse fashion!" The two lithe men rolled on the floor, wrestling for dominance. The two stylish prisoners could only gawk, the combatants struggling mightily against each other. The robots tracked them with their machine gun hands.

"Don't fire you idiot robots! You'll hit me!" cried the general.

Tizzoni spread their clenched fists and smashed his nose into the commander's face. Farbo's head flopped on the floor, unconscious. Tizzoni grabbed his nose. "YEEOUCH!!!" 002 flinched in sympathy.

"You have to hurry!" yelled 004. "Before the robots fire!" They were already taking threatening steps towards the bound cyborgs.

He rubbed his nose, fumbling for the control in the jacket pocket. "I've got it!" He hit the large red button on the remote. Their bonds remained intact, but a slow, deep rumble from the distance trembled through the base. The clear lights in the room switched to a red glow. The robots stood upright, then walked to the walls, demolishing furniture and the metal panels.

"What's going on now?" gaped 002.

"I don't know! This control has a lot of buttons on it, they're hard to read."

"Well you better get readin', because we gotta get out of here!" 002 and 004 got to their feet, still bound and chained to the room. It was fortunate the robots were no longer after them, but they will shortly bring the room down on top of them. Totto started hitting random buttons. Who knows what all that occurred around the base, but lights flickered on and off in the room, security cameras came into view and disappeared.

Farbo became aware again. His eyes took in the hysteria, and came to a conclusion. "You blundering fool! That's the base self-destruct sequence!"

"Really?" Tizzoni said with a light, questioning tone.

"My god! Did you pay attention to ANY of your Black Ghost orientation meetings?!"

Totto scoffed. "Of course I did! They didn't go over how complicated these controls were." Finally, to much relief, the cyborgs' restraints fell to the floor. They darted for the exit.

"Why do all these dumb bases always have a self-destruct?!"

"Don't know 002, but it's time to go!" shouted 004. He grabbed Tizzoni by the arm and into the hall.

"N-no." The general couldn't pull himself from the floor. "You can't escape Black Ghost!" He found his firearm and shot at the escapees. Tizzoni crashed to the floor.

002 swirled to fire. A robot ripped another massive piece of metal from the wall, and threw it at the scampering general, unable to get to his feet. "AAAAAAA!" Jet looked away when he heard the sickening metallic thud. The rush of air blew off Albert's hat and almost took Jet's boa. It did not bother the robots, they continued the destructive program. He turned to 004, he cradled the designer by the shoulders. The base still rumbled under them, red lights blinking frantically. Anguish filled his face as he watched the red liquid slowly drain from the gaudy vest.

Tizzoni weakly grabbed Albert's right hand. "Please... 004. We are all deceived in our lives. But, it is up to us to stand to those injustices." 004 nodded, prompting him to continue. "Live... live 00 cyborgs with your hopes and dreams on your red-clad sleeves, I pray that my work can help you succeed. This... is the only wish of any designer."

"Tizzoni," he whispered. The man coughed weakly.

"This is... terrible. I could've done-- more."

Jet leaned down to pay his last respects to the designer's heroic act. He blinked several times at the wound. "004! All this red stuff isn't blood, it's something else." Tizzoni continued a deathly moan.

"WHAT?"

002 reached into the vest and pulled out a plastic bag with a small hole, a deep red liquid flowing out. Tizzoni grabbed it back. "Don't touch that! It's a very expensive and rare dye!" He eyes teared up. "And it's draining away! How will I make my next masterpiece without this treasure?!"

004 resisted the urge to kick the man, instead threw him roughly over his shoulder. "You've got some other issues before you can worry about that Totie!"

"For the last time, it's Totto!"

"Whatever!"

They followed the soldiers still lingering in the base, racing for the nearest exit. They turned right, they could see the exterior lights at the end of the hall. The passage they left exploded, throwing them to the floor. Jet got up and put his shoulder under Totto's other arm to help Albert. "Come on!" 002 encouraged, the deep booms quickly approaching the trio. The blast overtook them, sending them flying through the exit.

They slid across the soil, covering their heads from the debris. The main blast ended, leaving the low, dying rumble deep in the base. 002 turned over and sat up. He patted out a small flame on his sleeve. "That was too close, remind me not to wear vintage polyester on missions again."

"004! 002!" they heard a female voice yell. 003 and 007 ran up the trail, carrying 001. The pair's faces brightened, and stood. "You're okay," she exclaimed, her face full of relief. "We were afraid you wouldn't get out before base self destructed."

"You weren't the only one," said 004.

"It was crazy!" jumped in GB. "We were battling our way through the defenses when the room went red and the sentries just ignored us. Then all this crazy stuff happened, good crazy stuff mind you. The computer that ran the signal and controlled the uniforms self destructed and everyone was released from their bonds. All the security doors unlocked too, it made getting out a breeze."

004 picked up the remote from Tizzoni's hand. "Well, you can thank our fashion friend here for that." He stirred at the comment, lifting himself to his elbows. He blinked the blurriness out of his eyes and settled on 007. He jumped to his feet and confronted him.

"007?! I still cannot believe what did you do to your outfit!" howled Tizzoni. "Where is the delicate fishnet shirt? And the bold navy ascot, it set off your cheekbones nicely. And who said you could change your transformation? This trench is not tailored at all to work on your torso, it is much too billowy! Your hips are all messed up again, augh! The selfishness of some people!"

003's eyes were wide, she sidestepped the ranting Italian, she needed to tell the others more. "Well, anyway, things out here are mostly under control. 008, 005, and 009 are taking out the last of the robot sentries. Most of the human soldiers ran for it to who knows where."

"Wait a sec, where's 006?" Her face lost its smile.

"We don't know. The scientists had said they didn't have him. So..."

"What--what do you mean where-- I'm at? I'm-- right here!" Everyone stopped and looked down the worn path and saw a sprinting 006 in his chef's uniform, carrying his largest wok.

"006!" gawked Jet. "What happened to you?"

The chef stopped, panting with hands on his knees. "What happened to me? What happened to you guys?!" he panted again, almost catching his breath. "I was just walking around the streets, scouting out for Black Ghost and a delicious dinner! I got sent on a wild goose-egg chase for some mysterious Mediterranean mollusks. The fisherman was a real shrewd businessman, but I talked him down to real steal! I get back and the Doctor is flipping his lid over you all. So I got here as fast as I could."

Tizzoni listened to the pudgy cyborg's story, he walked up to him and critically circled him. Chang eyed him suspiciously.

"Who's this guy?"

"It doesn't matter 006, it really doesn't matter," said a deflated Albert.

"Your frame, your shape, your bone structure. It's... perfect. Just perfect! 006! I must have you at my next show to model my my fall line of diminutive dinnerware!"

"Dinnerware you say? Well we can negotiate, but I don't work just for peanuts!"

"Of course of course! Someone of your talent and features must be paid accordingly!"

The pair walked down the path. 006 smiled. "I think this'll be the start of a wonderful partnership."

"It will be a pleasure to work with you 006! Better than 004, he's so full of himself, I didn't know how to act around him!"

The group in the clearing just stood there, trying to verify what they just saw, actually happened.

003 drew a breath. "Well, there goes dinner."

"Yeah, be better go after it before we starve!" 007 and 003 took off after the businessmen.

Jet looked over at Albert, he stood stiffly, his eye involuntarily twitching. "I'M full of myself?"

Jet clasped his hand on Albert's shoulder, he gave him a shy grin.

"It's been a long afternoon 004. So uh," Jet felt his throat get a little dry. He finished the question anyway. "You wanna go out for a bite to eat and relax?"

Albert sighed and looked at the American, and calmed himself. Those glasses really did frame his face nicely. "Sure, we're all dressed up, may as well have a place to go."


End file.
